


Dance, monkey, dance.

by Ill_write_it



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plane, Pole Dancing, Private Jet, Rich!Castiel, Stripper!Dean, hooker!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ill_write_it/pseuds/Ill_write_it
Summary: Save me from my pile of unfinished fics.....*hides in blanket fort*





	Dance, monkey, dance.

It wasn’t his usual gig but times were tough and he was desperate. Craigslist was the worst place to look for a job at the best of times but what choice did he have, he wasn’t taking another loan from Bobby. And Sam couldn’t live on a diet of cereal forever, the boy needed some of those much loved vegetables that he was constantly moaning about.   
So here he was. At an airport in the middle of nowhere, nothing but his current outfit and a toothbrush hastily shoved in his back pocket alongside his phone and wallet. Empty wallet. He would usually carry a knife but seeing as this whole thing appeared to be going down at an airport, of all places, he had decided to leave it in the car. The impala had barely made it here on the remaining fuel, hopefully after this job was over Dean would be able to fill her up, but he wasn’t beyond walking if he had to.  
“Dean Winchester?” A huge black man in a tux approached from the building, lowering his sunglasses to get a good look at Dean. Eyeing him up like a piece of meat on a slab.  
“Yeah.” Dean replied, pulling his hands out of his back pockets. An aborted handshake, a nervous laugh and a stern look from Agent Bubbles over there and they were making their way into the building.   
Once he’d emptied his pockets and removed his belt for Bubbles to inspect and gone through a bloody metal detector they made their way over through a glass door and onto the runway. The sound of aircraft engines humming loudly about him and the wind picking up momentarily deafened him. Then he realised what they were walking towards.   
A huge jet, spotlessly clean and probably private.   
He cast his mind back to the advert he’d responded to.

Looking for a young attractive man preferably between the age of 18 and 25 to entertain and provide company over one afternoon and evening. Pay includes one nights stay in a five star hotel and dinner, if you’re able to provide extra services this will be reflected in your pay. £500 without tip. Complete confidentially is non optional.

I mean, it didn’t sound like they were going to skin him and baste his organs... but anyone with enough wealth to have this jet (even rented) would have more than enough funds to cover that kind of dark hobby up. Dean felt itchy all over at the thought.   
The jet was running after all. And where better to commit your horrific crimes than a private jet flying over international waters.   
“Up these stairs please.” Bubbles shouted over the drone of the aircraft making his jacket flutter around him and revealing his earpiece’s intricate wiring. Dean nodded and followed his instruction. What other choice did he have.  
Inside of the plane it was significantly quieter, only the humming and occasional buzzing of a strange electronic noise. Dean listened closer, it sounded kinda like music. More specifically Noise. Oh no, he hoped he wouldn’t have to suffer through Noise for the next day or so.   
Bubbles shut the door behind them, asked him to remove his shoes with a distasteful look and walked up to the cockpit. There were a few moments of silence and then,  
“You might want to take a seat during takeoff.” A rough voice came from the back of the plane, Dean spun around from where he was watching Bubbles.  
A dark haired man with striking blue eyes grinned at him, and then wolf whistled.  
“Those pictures don’t do you justice beautiful.”  
Oh no. This was a gay thing. Oh no. Oh shit. Dean looked like a deer in headlights. The peculiar man grinned wider.  
“Oh and you think you’re straight! This is going to be so much fun!”  
The plane jolted forwards and Dean almost fell on his ass.   
His employer beckoned him closer.  
“You’re Mr Novak.” Dean stated.   
“Ugh. You’re making me feel old. Call me Castiel.” Castiel reached out his hand to shake Dean’s and Dean accepted.   
“I wasn’t expecting this to be an airport.”  
“Didn’t you look up the postcode?”  
Dean scratched the back of his neck.   
“I’m not really very good with computers.” Dean admired.  
Castiel raised his eyebrows.  
“How old are you exactly?”  
“How old are you?” Dean countered, noticing the touches of silver in Castiel’s hair now he was closer. The bluntness of his reply struck him a few moments after he’d said it, at which time Castiel was already laughing.  
“No you hang up first!” He chucked. “I’m 34, since you asked so nicely. Well, 33 today, 34 tomorrow.”  
“Happy birthday.” Dean replied still feeling the shame from his rudeness. Castiel prompted him with a gesture.  
“19.” Dean replied.   
Castiel whistled again this time in awe.   
“Your eyes look older.”  
“I’ve seen a lot.”  
“That appears to be the case.”  
Castiel admired Dean for a little while longer as the plane turns another corner to get to the straight part of the runway.   
“Take a seat.” Castiel smiled, patting the luxurious leather of the chair. Dean did as he was asked, plugged in his seatbelt and waited for takeoff. The Noise track finally ended and skipped onto something more bearable, Castiel started humming along to the cello part in the classical sounding music.   
Dean hated planes, hated flying, just hated having his feet anywhere but planted solidly on the ground. He gripped the sides of the chair tightly as the plane bounced off of the runway and began to ascend.   
Once they’d reached altitude and Dean’s ears were all fuzzy Castiel rose from his seat and removed Dean from his, guiding him towards the front of the plane. Then proceeded to fiddle with a remote connected by a thick black plastic wire to the wall. Once he had done so a miraculous change began to occur. the chairs moved to the sides of the plane, the wall behind was removed entirely, crumpled like it was nothing and a silver pole rose out of the floor alongside a cabinet which popped open filled with liqueur. Right at the far end of this new larger room there was a comfy looking day bed and behind that a set of stairs leading downwards.  
“Woah.”  
Castiel chucked at deans response, strode down the plane and threw himself onto the newly revealed bed  
Within a few moments Dean was back to feeling awkward again.  
“Take your shirt off.” Castiel said calmly.  
Dean was a little shocked at his request but did as he asked. For Sammy, he told himself. Just grin and bear it for Sammy. Just as he was about to pull his shirt over his shoulders Castiel began to tut.   
“No honey, slowly.”  
Dean dropped the shirt back down and did it again as asked, revealing inch by inch of his golden tanned torso.   
“You know how to dance, darling?” Castiel nodded towards the pole, while pouring himself a glass of something amber out of a dark unlabelled bottle.  
Dean shook his head, swallowing the saliva that had gathered in his mouth.  
“Nothing like that.” Dean answered.   
Castiel tilted his head to the side as if considering something and then changed the music to something a little more up beat.  
“It’s a two hour plan journey Dean, drink this and then dance for me.” He offered a matching tumbler to Dean.  
Dean walked over and downed it.   
“Thirsty boy.” Castiel commented quietly.  
The bitter taste of alcohol hit the back of his throat as he turned towards the pole suddenly feeling unbelievably self conscious.   
He’d done some shady things, things he wasn’t proud of. He had those pretty lips see, desirable and occasionally available for the right price. Sammy would never know, he stopped asking when Dean snapped at him last time.   
But he was sick of that, sick of hanging around in dark alley ways waiting for the next John. Sick of being spat on, belittled, haggled with. This had a set price, but he had paid for the ambiguous job description.

**Author's Note:**

> Save me from my pile of unfinished fics.....
> 
> *hides in blanket fort*


End file.
